Cigarette Traces
by Distempered
Summary: Just a little kiss. HarryxDraco


**Disclaimer: **Harry Potter and all related characters and recognizable properties belong to J.K Rowling. Chapter subtitle and some lyrical content inspired by _2HB_ by _The Venus in Furs_.

**cigarette traces  
**--- ----- --- ----- --- --- ----- --- ----- ---

"Ginny's kisses taste like fire, don't they?"

"What are you babbling about, Potter?" Draco asked, irritably crushing out his cigarette and flicking it over the side of his balcony.

"Ginny," Harry replied, "I know you've kissed her, too. Don't you agree that they taste like fire?"

"I think your question is absolutely absurd, and I'm not going to answer it." Draco didn't like being reminded of the drunken one-night stand he'd shared with the youngest Weasley at this year's victory party. Mainly because she'd been trying to rekindle the affair since it happened three months earlier.

"I think they taste like fire," said Harry, and then rested his forearms on the balcony ledge, lounging and staring out over the grounds.

"I think you're pissed," Draco replied, smartly.

Harry chuckled. "A little. But I'm serious. They taste like fire. And you know what else? Hermione's taste like ink. I suppose that's to be expected."

Draco tried not to make a disgusted face, but he couldn't help himself. He still really did not like the Mudblood, although he tried very hard not to make it seem obvious when he was forced to be around her. "You've shacked up with her, too? And people think _I _get around."

"Don't you?" asked Harry, flicking a sideways glance at him.

Draco inhaled deeply through his nose, breathing in the night air, and then exhaled sharply. "Not as much as some people like to think," he drawled.

"Oh." Harry frowned, considering all the rumors he'd ever heard about Malfoy and wondering if any of them were all that true. "Well, Cho's tasted like salt and Tracey's that one time was like winter. I've always sort of wondered about mine."

"What the hell is wrong with you, Potter?" Draco asked incredulously. "I don't particularly want to hear about you kissing anyone…it does nothing for my stomach."

"Has anyone ever told you about your own?"

"I'm going to go back inside if you don't shut up."

Harry remained quiet for a few moments, still staring out over the expansive grounds of Malfoy Manor and occasionally casting his eyes sideways as discreetly as possible at Draco.

"I'm going to go back inside if you don't stop looking at me," said Draco, with the barest hint of amusement.

"I've always sort of wondered about mine," Harry reiterated, a bit more firmly than before.

Draco sighed gently. "None of your women have ever told you?"

Harry chuckled and shook his head, sliding just that much closer to Draco as he did so. "No, no, I've never asked them. It's a strange question…silly, really. They would probably just have laughed at me…especially Tracey." He snorted, recalling the time last Christmas Eve when he'd practically attacked her underneath the mistletoe. "You know, I wonder if she just tasted like winter because it was Christmas? I wonder if she'd taste any different now that it's summer."

Arching one eyebrow with perfectly practiced disdain, Draco finally turned to look at Harry face to face. "She's just inside, why don't you go give it a shot? I'm quite sure that she's just as pissed as you are right now."

"Oh, no," replied Harry, shaking his head and laughing, "no, I don't want to bother her."

"Yet bothering _me _with this tripe is perfectly okay?"

"I have no problem with bothering you," said Harry, with a shrug of his shoulders.

Draco almost wanted to laugh -- almost. "Is this why you followed me out here, then? To get my opinion on what snogging a girl should taste like."

"Better than being in there," Harry scoffed. He pointed back through the balcony doors. "Lavender Brown had just taken her top off."

"Oh, well then, I can _definitely _see why you would rather come out here," said Draco knowingly, turning back again and leaning his forearms on the railing like Harry had been doing.

Harry cocked his head, clearly not understanding.

"Never mind," said Draco, with a shake of his head.

"I suppose I could just go _ask _one of them…Ginny or Tracey, though. Not Cho, obviously, and Ron might deck me in the face if I asked Hermione. He doesn't know it ever happened. So yeah, I could ask Ginny or Tracey. Tracey would probably just laugh at me, though, because she hates weird questions like that, so I should probably just go ask Ginny, right? Yeah, I could ask Ginny."

Draco rolled his eyes at the drunken babbling and then nodded. "You could."

"Although," said Harry thoughtfully, as he moved a bit closer again, "it is sort of nice _not_ knowing. Adds mystery and whatnot."

"I guess."

"Although," and again he slid just a little bit closer, "on the other hand, I've already had so much mystery and intrigue in my life already."

"That's true, too," said Draco, smirking as he felt Harry's arm brush against his own.

"But it'll be so hard, not to mention weird, to just --"

Obviously, Draco'd had enough dancing around the issue. He swiftly pulled Harry in with his free arm and pressed his lips to the shorter boy's. Harry appeared too shocked to know what to do, so Draco insinuated his tongue into Harry's mouth to taste him.

But the moment was over as quickly as it had begun, and Harry was amazed to see that Draco was already back at the ledge, leaning casually as if nothing at all had happened. Harry blinked for a moment and then licked his lips, trying to pick up every remaining trace of Draco's taste. He then closed the gap between Draco and himself.

Slowly, a great big grin appeared on his face. "You taste like smoke!" Harry exclaimed, happily.

Draco turned his head to let Harry get the full effect of his most potent sneer. "Any idiot could have drawn that conclusion, Potter."

Harry shook his head. "No, no, it's good! It's like," he licked his lips again, "smoky and heady. I imagine that your whole body is filled with smoke." His expression was faintly enraptured. "And now I have some inside of me."

Draco looked at him skeptically before succumbing to his instincts and laughing hysterically. "You are so bloody pissed," he managed to choke out between laughs.

Harry tried his very best not to feel offended. "Yeah," he answered, a bit dully.

Once he'd calmed down, Draco sighed and reached into his trouser pocket for his pack of cigarettes. He pulled out two. "Care for a fag?" he asked, extending one to Harry. When Harry took it, Draco couldn't help but start snickering again.

"You know I really hate you, Malfoy," said Harry.

"No, I don't think you do," Draco responded, artfully keeping his cigarette on his lips while he spoke, and slipping his wand out to light it.

Harry didn't respond to that, preferring to keep quiet before he said something stupid again. However, with alcohol still coursing through his system, as well as the deliciously heady feeling of Draco's kiss still right there on his lips, he couldn't keep quiet for long. "So?"

"So, what?"

"So, what about me?" Harry asked, exasperatedly.

Draco smirked. "What about you?" He knew perfectly well, what.

"I told you about yours. Now, you tell me about mine. I thought we had a deal." Harry tried to play casual, although his heart was racing.

Draco sucked in on his cigarette and then exhaled very slowly. "Firstly, no deal was made," he said, seriously. He then waited for a few moments, before turning and stepping so that his face was just inches away from Harry's. Harry felt his heart might possibly have stopped working. "And secondly," Draco continued, his drawl becoming much more pronounced, "I couldn't tell you what yours taste like because you didn't kiss me." A pale eyebrow arched insolently. "Right?"

Harry gulped. He hadn't been anticipating _that_ reaction. (Nor did he anticipate the different, stirring reaction of his own…) He hadn't been expecting anything, really, and now he was sweating lightly and wondering why he'd opened his big mouth in the first place.

"So, what now, Potter?" asked Draco, in a low, endlessly drawling way.

Without thinking, Harry just went for it. He kissed Draco, hesitantly at first and slowly with more proficiency before abandoning all pretense and lightly massaging Draco's tongue with his own. One lanky arm slithered around his tall former rival to draw him in closer. The kiss deepened, and Harry could taste the intoxicative smokiness of Draco mixed with whatever his own taste was. It was delicious.

Draco pulled away first, breathless. His pupils were slightly dilated, and Harry noticed the faintest trace of sweat on his brow. His cigarette had fallen to the ground, still lit, and the smoke curled upward, tracing a ladder to the stars.

"So?" Harry said, with a tiny smirk to rival the one Draco was always so fond of giving. "What about me, Malfoy?"

Draco wouldn't look at him. He crushed out his cigarette with the heel of his boot. "What about you, Potter?" he said quietly.

"What do mine taste like?"

Draco appeared to consider the question carefully -- that, or he was stalling as long as he could. He dropped his chin to his chest, staring studiously at the ground. Harry used the moments of silence to step forward and study the blond, himself. He looked almost pensive, suddenly sullen and removed, not nearly as alive as he'd looked only moments before. Harry began to feel horrified, and he wanted to open his mouth and immediately start apologizing.

But before he could, Draco spoke. "Blood."

"What?"

"Blood, Potter. Your kiss tastes like blood." Draco was still looking at the ground.

Harry felt like all the air in his body had been forced out of him. Blood, he tasted like blood? How could he possibly taste like blood? That was an awful thing to taste like -- all copper and tangy bitterness.

"Oh," Harry said, disappointment extremely evident.

"No," Draco said, a tentative smile forming, "no, it's good. I imagine you're filled with blood and now I have some…or whatever you said before." He chuckled lightly, and then he finally looked up at Harry. "Now, I'm going back inside, Potter. Do try not to wet yourself."

Harry smiled and absently ran a hand through his scruffy hair. "I won't…wet myself, I mean."

Draco rolled his eyes and brushed past Harry to go back into the party. Harry just stared after him wondering what the hell had just possessed him to kiss Draco Malfoy…and why on earth he liked it so much.


End file.
